The Way Things Aren't
by Anzu Fan
Summary: Three very short stories.  Little ideas of what won't happen, but might have been funny or interesting.  A crossover, a slightly funny little scene idea, and what might have happened if Lion-O hadn't gotten the Sword in time.


Disclaimer: No. No, I don't own ThunderCats. If you thought I did, you were quite mistaken.

I've seen this kind of thing around fan fiction before, though never in TC fiction. It's a kind of "meme" if you will; some ways the series could have gone or something. Just a fun little story to avoid working on some of my assignments. I don't know who came up with this idea, just know that I didn't. Two basically comedy, one serious. Three unrelated ideas of what could have happened, of what might have been, of varying lengths.

Warnings: Um…Lion-OxCheetara implied in some of these snippets. And a smidge of TygraxCheetara.

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><p>The Way Things Aren't<p>

_1. Crossover?_

"So, let me see if I understand you." Tygra looked around at the various feline gazes, some benign and some suspicious. It was chilly, and he tried to shift away from the icy stone wall. "That glowing hole in the wall was a spell of Mumm-Ra's."

"Correct."

"And it dragged us here because he wanted Thunderian blood for some bizarre potion, and he needed more Thundercats."

"Yeah."

"And since there's so few of you guys, he reached into what you're telling me is an alternate reality to nab us."

"Uh-huh."

"And you guys are technically some sort of form of _us_…from this dimension?"

"_Snarf_. That's about the size of it."

He looked up at the chains holding his wrists to the wall, pinned above his head. The Tygra beside him – decked out in one of the strangest blue bodysuits he'd ever seen – was doing something similar, trying to work his paws free. "So we're either going to die, or we've all lost our minds. Just fantastic."

"All at the same time? That's technically impossible." Snarf twisted his thick tail, trying to chew at the chain around his neck. "_Snarf Snarf._ All I know is if he tries hurting Lion-O, he has old Snarf to answer to!"

Their Snarf – the one who _couldn't _talk – yowled in agreement, jangling his own collar. The other Lion-O shook his head a little. "Anybody got any ideas?"

"Fools!" Mumm-Ra's voice boomed as he drew near, and he couldn't help but wince; it was loud, and the dark chamber only seemed to amplify the noise. He tottered before them, looking drier and more decayed than ever in the violet light of the huge cauldron in the middle. The light played over the idols above them, making their faces leer. Where the heck had he been? "Plot to escape all you wish, but NONE shall escape the wrath of Mumm-Ra! For now that I have enough of you accursed Thundercats, I will begin the ceremony! Fueled with the blood of the cats, the cauldron shall open a door to allow the Ancient Spirits of Evil to wreak havoc upon Third Earth and cause the land to finally bow to me! None of your weapons or allies can save you this time!"

He cackled once, and Tygra blinked when he continued. The Thundercats in the weird outfits – bared midriff on the bulkier Lion-O…why? – seemed to be listening grimly to this speech, as if they'd heard it several times but found it desperately important. To his other side, the two Cheetaras were yanking at their bonds, and their Panthro – the bigger one – was listening carefully. He would have as well, if the guy hadn't been going on about the same thing intermittently over the last hour now. "There shall be no escape for any, be they Berbil or Warrior Maiden, Mutant or Moleman! All will fall before my onslaught of-!"

"Question." He looked up, as did everyone else. His brother was looking directly at Mumm-Ra, who seemed surprised at the interruption.

"Er…yes?"

"How long are you going to keep monologuing?" The silence that followed could have made a librarian flinch. Tygra resisted the urge to groan.

Mumm-Ra stared at him, and it took a minute for him to respond. "I…that is…what?"

"Monologuing. You know, going on and on about your plan. Not to be rude, but it seems kind of unnecessary. I mean, we're not dumb. You've told us all this before, when we first fell through." Lion-O was _not _talking to this alternate dimension Mumm-Ra. He _wasn't_. For Thundera's sake, he sounded like he was actually having a conversation with this nut, even with his arms chained above his head.

"…I…it's more satisfying this way. Watching you cower in fear as you realize your doom is nigh-"

"Yeah, but I'm willing to bet you've done this before. And _how _often have you failed because you just kept rambling to yourself and others about your plan?" Lion-O continued, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "You said a while back that you're ever-living, right? Well, why don't you just wait for the Thundercats to die off before conquering the planet if they're causing so much trouble? Are you just impatient, or is it a matter of principle?"

The Tygra beside him kept looking over at Lion-O and then back at him. "What kind of trick is he trying to pull?" he asked lowly, expression somewhere between shocked and bemused.

"What do you mean, 'trick?' I think he's literally psychoanalyzing your nemesis." Tygra leaned his head back and gazed toward the ceiling. "As if he's doing anything sensible, like working out a plan."

"It's more a matter of principle…it's not good for the reputation, you know. How am I supposed to be evil beyond evil if I can't squash a few cats? And besides, if they repopulate their species here, that would be even longer to wait." Bizarrely enough, Mumm-Ra actually seemed to have lowered his voice to a conversational level, and was responding. Tygra shook his head in disbelief.

"How in the world would they repopulate? There are only two girls, and one's a kid! Sheesh, think it through!"

"Well, there's a female puma. I didn't manage to get her and two other males, they were in the Feliner. And there may well be more cats. And I already told you it was a matter of principle than anything."

"Yeah, but still. I mean, you run more a risk of Thundercat numbers increasing by bringing us all together. I mean, you've doubled their ranks on your own!" At that, Mumm-Ra's jaw dropped, and he put a dry hand to his chin in thought.

"Well…that may be. But you're all my prisoners. Though I'll admit I didn't consider that…"

A warm touch on his arm made Tygra glance down, and he bit his lip to keep from speaking; Kit had a finger to her lips and gestured along the wall. Her brother and the other Wilykittens – older and taller than their own fluffy set – had freed themselves and both Panthros and Cheetaras. He saw how as she tugged a lock pick from beneath her bracelet and started working on his manacles. "For the first time ever, my brother's ability to babble is paying off," he muttered, rubbing his arm where the metal had cut in when she finally got his arms loose. The Tygra beside him seemed more interested by all the goings-on than unnerved by everything.

"Who knew Mumm-Ra could be so easily distracted?" asked the older Wilykat, moving carefully as he tried to reach the alternate Lion-O's manacles. The villain in question was only about ten feet away, unaware even now of their escape.

Lion-O –theirs, his brother – seemed to be quite attentive as Mumm-Ra talked. "Well, in our world we didn't have technology, but you introduced it to us when our version of you used it to basically destroy our home. So again, that's just the principle of a villain making his enemies, and vice versa, more powerful," he said, replying to some query.

"True…I hadn't thought about that. It's not so different from me bringing other cats, is it…?"

Tygra froze when Mumm-Ra looked along the wall and the red eyes widened, seeing them free. He felt for his holster; was it possible those mutants had missed it when they took his whip, assuming he had only the same weapons as the other Tygra? "I see. A clever ruse, cub from another world. But not quite clever _enough_!" Mumm-Ra struck his brother across the mouth and sneered. "Take one step in any direction, and I'll slit his throat right here-!"

_Bang!_

Yep. They'd ignored his gun entirely.

Mumm-Ra tumbled back, stomach smoking where the beam had struck. Everyone seemed a little stunned, and turned to their heads to look at him. "What?" he asked irritably. "Nobody smacks my brother around but me!"

Kit skirted around the still corpse and hurriedly unlocked Lion-O's manacles. "Come on, come on! Let's get out of here before he comes to!" she yelped, tugging at his arm.

"We have to get the Sword of Omens back first. Both of them," he added, looking up nearly a full foot to see his alternate self. "Those weirdoes took them…'Mutants,' right?"

"Right. If we can just get Mumm-Ra to see his reflection in it, we'll be set. The Mutants won't be able to stand against all fourteen of us!" Perhaps the two Lion-Os _were_ kind of similar; there was some kind of definitely youthful lightness in the way he said that.

"Actually, we have another problem." Cheetara – the other one, in the leotard – was staring at something across the cauldron that had just appeared, lit in the sickly violet light. Tygra followed her gaze and felt his fur stand on end; _their _Mumm-Ra was watching with interest, tapping his chin in thought. "I don't suppose _he's_ distracted so easily?" Tygra picked up Snarf under an arm and wondered how fast these guys could run.

"No…no, he doesn't monologue much."

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><p><em>2. Meow Mix, Got An Antidote?<em>

Panthro hated it when things stopped making sense. "So tell me again what happened?"

Cheetara sighed. "The lizards had canisters of some kind of gas with them. We didn't think much about it until they threw them and ran. I guess they thought once the gas kicked in they'd come back and get us. It's just a blessing I didn't inhale any of it and was able to lead them back here."

"Strange of them to just run off like that when we're split up. Do you think it will wear off?"

Tygra growled. He stretched along the ground and rolled onto his side, sunning himself. "I don't know," Cheetara said, watching uneasily as he caught sight of a moth and followed it with his head, very much like Snarf would have. Something warm and furry rubbed against her calf as she sat on a stump, and she sighed; Lion-O no longer understood the meaning of "personal space," bumping his shoulder along her knee affectionately.

"They act like…I don't know, non-sentient animals. Like…" Panthro trailed off, not wanting to say "pets" but unable to think of anything else. "Can they talk?"

"I don't think so. But they understand most of what I'm saying. I'm more worried about how the lizards managed to figure out something that makes us act so…weird." She rested her chin in her hand and rolled her eyes heavenward when Lion-O rested his head in her lap, very much like a beloved creature might. "I have to say, I never thought looking after the royal family would get so weird." Ignoring the slightly awkward feeling, Cheetara patted his head. He purred contentedly, and she was reminded of the Thunderian mounts when one stroked their backs.

This was really, _really _messed up.

Tygra growled, and Lion-O lifted his head. Though they'd walked back to camp normally, they seemed equally comfortable staying on all fours, peculiarly graceful. Panthro lifted an eyebrow. "He sounds jealous."

Kit and Kat looked from one to the other, peeping out from behind Panthro. The sight of Tygra and Lion-O acting so strangely had perturbed them, but now they seemed almost fascinated. Lion-O tilted his head and grinned. In a quick, surprising motion, he jumped on Tygra, who let out a hiss of protest. Cheetara felt for her bo staff; if they hurt each other like this…

With a giggle, Kit covered her mouth. "Look at Tygra!"

Flopped on his front, looking very tried and impatient, Tygra growled under his breath; Lion-O had apparently thought he was playing a game and was now sprawled over his back, batting merrily at his ears like a very young cub might. It was oddly sweet, and Cheetara sighed. "What in the world are we going to do?"

"Hope the gas wears off and that they'll behave until it does." Panthro looked to the Tank and eyed the two cats. "Think we can persuade them to get in? We can't stay here."

"Well, if Cheetara goes, they go," Kit said innocently, trying to keep from snickering. Cheetara covered her eyes as Tygra hissed at Lion-O and took his place sitting beside her feet. Lion-O didn't appreciate it; he growled and sat on the other side, meeting his brother's gaze stonily. He even put his head on her knee, broodingly, as if to say, "Mine."

This was not in the job description when she became a cleric. Not even in the fine print.

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><p><em>3. Subjugation<em>

Culture shock was a bit of an understatement.

Lizards were overlords. Cats were treated like dogs. Even the ones who had tried to be just and true when Thundera had existed were treated like filth. Technology was a roaring wave, taking over completely. Vehicles, stores, buildings…gone were the days of oil lamps and handmade cloth. Every day Cheetara had to learn how to use new machinery. Skulking in the alleys of New Kemet was dangerous, but she was good at it. Cats scraped together a living, and Mumm-Ra ruled from the Onyx Pyramid, far away.

It was like the story had gone wrong.

Some jackal named Kayner ruled over New Kemet, set up in the borders of what was once the lush Thundera. It sprawled large and flat, gray with steel and mechanized devices. Far and flat and lifeless, so blandly filled with all manner of beasts, all under the subjugation of lizards.

The leopard over the counter listened as she placed her order and called, "Hey, Hybrid. Get the lady at the end a coffee."

Seated on the stool, she ignored the sound of another cat whistling at her from the other side of the tavern. Safe to say he'd had something a little more potent than she would drink. Not for the first time, she was glad she'd opted for a long cloak; when you dealt in these parts, her old outfits attracted attention, and not the good sort.

That, and she didn't quite feel well groomed enough to wear that kind of thing. She was leaner, hair shorter, eyes more suspicious. In the gloom of cigar and pipe smoke, the grime of dirty glass and tired gazes, they easily saw 'Hybrid.' It took a great deal for her to remains seated and calm.

Just the cat she'd wanted to see. Things might finally change.

If he recognized her, he didn't show it. He vanished into the kitchens and she considered his appearance; thinner, a little taller. The spots on his face somehow made him look older, careworn, and the dye in his mane darkened it to burgundy.

He returned with a relatively clean mug full of a black brew. "Two shekels, please."

She fished in her pocket, noting he didn't quite meet her eyes. He really _didn't _recognize her. The small silver coins glittered in the low bulb light. Slithe's face on it made her stomach coil in disgust.

"Ma'am, you gave me five." Honesty. Pure and sweet. His eyes looked the same as ever.

"I'm not that old…" she said quietly, leaning toward him and putting his paw over them. "Lion-O."

He froze, and his eyes widened a bit. But a moment later his brows lowered and he replied, softly, "…Cheetara?"

It was a little flattering that he suddenly looked shy, and something like a smile marked his mouth. "Hey. Twenty-four is too young for you to call me 'ma'am.' Can you get on break? I want to talk to you."

It only took about three minutes to convince the leopard to let him off for a bit. Cheetara waited patiently, sitting in the corner, nursing the coffee cup in her paws. When he sat down in front of her at the tiny table, she took in every detail of him, memorizing.

He was three inches taller and about ten pounds leaner. His fur was mussed, and it didn't have the same luster. The spots on his face and arms were fake, but well done – if she hadn't known him, she might have taken him for some sort of hybrid cat as well. The dye made his mane look dirty, and his lips were thinner. His sweater was threadbare, and the neck seemed frayed from use.

How old was he? Twenty-two? He looked older, but his eyes were still young. He fidgeted once, watching the steam rise from her cup. "So…it's been a while."

"Five years. Since the takeover." The general murmur in the room was enough to cover their voices, hunched over the oak surface of the table. Interesting; the last time she'd come here, the lights had been flickering on oil. Now, the light bulbs clicked on and off, and some of the cats were toting greasy old pistol models on their hips. Nothing compared to the hi-tech new models the lizards had. Just enough to scare someone in a fight.

He didn't respond to that immediately. Instead he gazed at her, taking her in as she'd taken him in. Probably noticing her shorter hair, the darker clothes she wore. "How have you been?"

"Fine. Well. You know." Yes, living in a world of subjugation. Yes, living in a world where they skirted and hid and skulked, fighting for their lives and reeling from the confusion of change. Yes, years after the king had been killed, the kingdom had crumbled, and the Sword had been lost. The slums had become home, and it was ruefully noted that at least they were permitted to live and cower. "Where have you been?"

"Here. Well, for the past three years. It would have been too dangerous to stay in the main city, and I knew some animals here willing to help me and Stripes hide. Mumm-Ra has looked, but we've been fortunate." He blinked. "'Stripes' is what my brother goes by now. Slithe still has a reward out for anyone who can bring in our pelts."

"Or any lion pelt, actually," she said. Sipping at the coffee, she exhaled over it. "You make a good coffee." His mouth twitched.

"I would hope. I'm glad I can do something right." She didn't reply to that, as he dropped his gaze to the table. "I've heard about the resistance. I take it you're in it?"

"I'm the leader, but we're hardly a force to be reckoned with." A ragtag group of cats, some with warrior training and some without. They couldn't challenge the lizards. Even with the last cleric guiding them, it was hopeless.

Hopeless. That word came up in her mind a lot lately.

"How is it this side of town? I know the slums weren't exactly strange to you," she said, trying to distract herself. Lion-O glanced up at the sound of a wolf banging his glass for more liquor, and stood up. A young woman – younger than her, some kind of coyote – was watching the bar, but he gestured for her not to go near the wolf. She watched him head to the back and bring out a fresh mug, opaque with ice and some fiery, steaming drink. The woman seemed relieved, and darted into the back of the tavern to see to dishes. Cheetara trailed to the counter where Lion-O had started taking out glasses.

"Sorry. She's new. And he's scum. I take over for the seedy kind." Dirty and tired and haggard. Such a far cry physically from the energetic prince so interested in helping people. But he was still the same inside. Battered and bruised, but his heart remained.

She let her elbows rest on the surface. It was rough and smelled of cigarette. "Number fifteen on Anubis Street. Come this evening." Her voice was so low he barely heard her, but his ears slid back.

"I messed up. All this is my fault. You don't want me around, trust me. I'll tell Stripes, see if he's interested."

She couldn't say his name, but it hit the tip of her tongue. "L-Look. What happened then was not your fault. You couldn't have known Mumm-Ra would blow the place up. The Sword must still be in the rubble of the palace. That's what we're trying to find, you see. We're going to get around the sentries and find it. That's why we need you."

Mumm-Ra would not have been able to use the Sword even if he found it. And while he wanted the stone within, he wasn't willing to risk excavating it and having the cats steal it from his digging team; not while a lion was not absolutely, certainly dead. If he found Lion-O, and killed him, _then_ the hundreds of guards protecting the ruins of the palace from excavation would be given shovels, and the blade recovered.

In the low light Lion-O's eyes seemed skeptical. "A lousy fighter that's been hiding like a coward for five years?"

"A rightful heir to the throne who is the only one who can change all this. You haven't had a choice all this time, and neither have we. But now that I've found you, we can do something. There are people who believe in you. _I _believe in you." She touched the side of his face then, and noticed this close that he'd used black dye to daub the spots on his fur.

"Maybe you shouldn't. Stripes doesn't. I don't."

"Well, you should. I've been trying to find you for years now but you guys were too smart." The babble hid their words, but their faces were close anyway, soft with secrecy. "We can make a difference if we have you. They've beat us down, but they haven't won unless we give up. Please, just come tonight."

He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but he abruptly shut it again. His throat bobbed, and he finally managed to say, mouth dry, "We tried once on our own, and we were nearly caught. Stripes still has burn marks from the pistols."

Her gaze dipped to his neck, and she saw a slight, pale strip of flesh where his fur wouldn't grow, burnt away by some malignant blast. Cheetara dropped her paw to cup the side of his neck, feeling the pulse in his throat. "So do you. Please. Isn't a chance better than nothing at all? Better than living under Mumm-Ra and his cronies?" She stroked the long-healed wound, thumb brushing his jaw line in a pitying plea.

She pretended not to notice when he shut his eyes as if in bliss, as if he hadn't felt something so tender and pleasant in all his life.

She pretended not to notice the way he leaned into her paw, and the way his pulse throbbed a little faster.

"_Please_. You're the only one who can do this." If he wouldn't try, there was nothing left. If he wouldn't try, they were doomed. If only he _had _gotten the Sword, if they'd all been a little bit quicker, and Mumm-Ra hadn't been able to set up properly in Thundera for fear of them…things might have been different.

"Hey, Hybrid. Make out with your girl on your own time." His eyes opened he stepped back, away from her. The leopard was looking at them from the door to the kitchens, eyebrows arched.

"S-Sorry. I…I wasn't…"

He shook his head and continued pulling out the glasses. She heard snickers and yowls from around the bar, and wondered if it would be really noticeable if she beat every last one of them with her staff.

Probably.

Lion-O straightened, putting the last glass up. "What time?"

Cheetara stared at him. His face was flushed from embarrassment but his eyes were bright under the tiredness. For a minute the relief she felt made her knees weak. "Just after sundown."

"…We'll be there. I can't promise anything other than that." That was fine, that was great. To get him there, to get him to see that there _were _people who needed him, who still believed in him-!

Her heart throbbed and before she could quite stop herself she leaned over the counter and caught him by the mouth in a kiss. He stiffened, too shocked to reciprocate, and somebody whistled. "Thank you," she whispered, eyes radiating joy, and she was gone and out the door before he could say another word.

Lion-O stared after her, absently touching his mouth with two fingers. "Sheesh. What'd you say?" The manager began filling the glasses one at a time with frothing beer, and a couple with cider.

Realizing that the whole tavern was watching, Lion-O headed back to the kitchen and didn't reply, trying to ignore the fact that his heartstrings were twisting with old, familiar affections.


End file.
